


What You Have Shown Me

by StHoltzmann



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Abby very briefly, Angst, Backstory, CPTSD, Cheaper than Therapy, Childhood, Childhood Trauma, Emotions, Feels, Female Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StHoltzmann/pseuds/StHoltzmann
Summary: Patty unexpectedly cracks open a piece of Holtzmann's past, and it hurts.CW: references to violence and running away.





	

_“...Now I feel like I have a family of my own, and I love you."_

* * *

Patty came into the firehouse already talking. “There’s a missing kid alert, you guys,” she said. “Endangered runaway. I already retweeted it on both my accounts, and I’m gonna put it up on our official Instagram. Anywhere else you think we could share it?”

“Oh, we could print something out and put it on the windows—“ Abby began.

“I dunno,” Holtzmann said absently, mind mostly on her work. She inspected a circuit board through the loupe attached to her goggles. It was acceptable, but acceptable wasn’t nearly good enough. Vexed, she poked it with her high-precision tweezers. “We don’t know the situation. Might be better if no one finds ‘em.”

There was only silence from the others. It stretched on a little too long, and Holtzmann glanced up. They were looking at her in pretty clear puzzlement, and she realized that she had—again—crossed some kind of line that she didn’t know was there. It didn’t usually happen to her around the other Ghostbusters…meaning the line must have been a particularly sharply-drawn one.

She covered a sigh with a yawn and a stretch and said, “Never mind. This thing is giving me eye strain; think I’m gonna get back on Project: Make the Proton Packs Lighter. I know that's a crowd-pleaser.” She got up and ducked into the back. From experience, Holtzmann knew that trying to explain these things was more trouble than it was worth. Even with Abby.

A few minutes later, Holtzmann heard the sound of someone rapping their knuckles lightly on the wall in the rear part of the lab where she'd retreated. Holtzmann glanced over sideways, but kept her head pointed at her laptop. It was Patty.

Patty rapped on the wall again. “Hey, I have chocolate-covered potato chips,” she said.

Holtzmann closed the laptop and looked up. “…I _guess_ you can come in.”

Patty pulled a stool up next to her, lowered it a little until her head was at roughly the same level as Holtzmann’s, and opened the bag neatly. “These should _not_ be so good,” she said, taking one out herself and then pushing the bag toward Holtzmann. “I blame you for getting me hooked on ‘em!”

Holtzmann just looked at Patty, waiting for the inevitable questions, but they didn’t come. Not sure what to make of this, she reached into the bag and took out three chips. All of them went into her mouth simultaneously. She noted that her fingers had black grease marks on them, but that didn’t stop her. It wasn’t anything that hadn’t wound up in her mouth before.

Patty didn’t say a word while Holtzmann crunched away at her mouthful of chips. Finally, unable to bear the mounting tension that she felt, and physically unable to go any _further_ back into the lab, Holtzmann said, “I guess that seemed kinda weird.” Might as well grit her teeth, rip the bandaid off, and get the awkward interrogation and attempts at helpfulness over with.

“Oh, hon, everything you do is weird.” Patty grinned at her. “I’m not going to start ranking ‘em—weird, weirder, weirdest. I’d have to make up some new grammar!”

“Weirderingest.” Holtzmann felt her laugh come out somehow askew. She ate six more chips and creased the opening of the bag back and forth a few times. Then she said, unable to stop herself, “Thing is. You know…some kids run away for good reasons.”

Patty looked thoughtful for a moment, and then nodded. “Makes sense. Some families just don’t deserve their kids. If you ask me, anyhow.”

Holtzmann made herself look at Patty. “I guess. Look, I know you’re gonna say that even then, living on the streets is too dangerous. Stranger danger,  _Streetwise_ ,  _Go Ask Alice_. Right?” She felt exhausted just thinking about trying to explain why that wasn’t always right.

Patty shook her head. “Hey now, Patty here can speak for herself. Sometimes the only cure for an godawful situation is a godawful decision, you see what I’m saying?”

That was a surprising reaction. Holtzmann tried to figure out what it might mean. “Are you…speaking from experience?” She fidgeted with the laptop’s power cord. The coating was starting to develop tiny cracks. It might be a good idea to slap some Sugru on it before it got worse. On the other hand, electrical tape was a little less annoying to deal with. Holtzmann considered whether she could get her hands on some of that yellow-and-green striped European electrical tape. None of her colleagues were European, so they wouldn’t be confused by her misuse of color coding. Worth looking into.

“Well, sorta," Patty answered. "My baby sister left her husband and took her baby with her. Now, we'd all _told_ her not to marry him in the first place, but she didn't listen. When she left, all her friends said she was crazy, should have waited for family to arrive. But she’s way out west and none of us were there yet. I mean, we were on our way, though—just 'cause we'd told her so didn't mean we weren't going to take care of her. We found ‘em sleeping in a church, but the point is, they were alive. If they’d stuck around, I don’t think they would’ve been.”

“Your family’s pretty all right.” Supportive. Holtzmann wondered what that was like, briefly, but then picked up a carpenter's pencil and started to draw lines between the potato chip crumbs on the table.

“I hate to say it, but yeah, sometimes they are.” Patty stood and took the empty bag. “Anyway. Let me know if you need anything.”

Holtzmann put down the pencil and watched her go. She swallowed and looked at the power cord again. She felt relieved that Patty was going, but also…maybe a little disappointed. For some reason, Patty seemed easy to talk to. Did she want to talk? Holtzmann wasn’t sure. She opened her laptop, closed it, then opened it again. “Your troubleshooting mode sucks,” she grumbled to her brain. “Error: Too many errors.” She took a deep breath.

* * *

Patty had already gone around the corner when she heard Holtzmann’s voice drift after her, as free of inflection as if she were giving the time. “I ran away when I was eleven. And I’m glad that no one found me.”

Patty felt her heart seize. She took a moment, then turned around and went back into the lab. Holtzmann was hunched over her laptop, her arms and legs all pulled in together instead of haphazardly flung about as usual. “Holtzy. Baby. You were…” She trailed off, stricken.

“A street kid, yeah. It was just like _Newsies_ , all knee pants and tap-dancing.” Holtzmann gave a lopsided grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Sure it was.” Patty returned to the stool next to Holtzmann.

Holtzmann untied and retied the scarf around her neck, not looking at Patty. “I don’t think they liked me from Day 1,” she said. Her eyes were dry, and her tone was even. “My parents. My hobbies turned out not to be a big hit with them, for sure, but that was just an additional thing. I didn’t realize ‘till I was ten or so that it had jack shit to do with me, or my clothes, or whether I wanted to kiss girls, or how many alarm clocks I took apart. I mean, that’s when I _intellectually_ realized it, anyway.”

Patty just nodded.

“Just couldn’t make sense of it. One day they’d be hugging me and telling me they’d get me the book I wanted, and the next day…something invisible would change. A polarity shift. And when that happened there wasn’t anywhere to hide, ‘cause they took my bedroom door off the hinges. Ha!—see, I’ve been unhinged for a _long_ time.” Holtzmann gave a huff of a laugh. Patty couldn’t bring herself to smile.

“Stuff happened with no stimulus, no cause, no pattern. Like this.” Holtzmann, still not making eye contact, pushed her sleeves a little higher above her left elbow and tapped a finger on an oval scar. “That’s from the day they threw out all my favorite clothes and replaced ‘em with dresses. I tried to stop them, even though I knew where it’d end up. Dumb kid.” She laughed and pulled her sleeve back down.

Patty shook her head. She’d heard a wide and alarming variety of Holtzmann laughs, and that…wasn’t one of them. “I’m trying real hard to just listen, Holtzy, but that doesn’t sound dumb to _me_.” She gestured at herself. “Someone forcing me to wear, I dunno, Erin’s clothes…that’d make me mad. Can you even imagine that?” Patty pretended to tighten a tiny bow at her neck. “I mean, they’re pretty nice clothes, fine for her and all, but that’s not me. I would _not_ appreciate someone else deciding who they think I am. Not being able to reflect who you are? That’s nothin’ to laugh at.”

There was a little pause, and Patty couldn’t quite tell if Holtzmann really heard her or not.

Holtzmann, eyes focused on something far away, said, “I can’t remember the details most of the time. Except when I don’t want to. Brains are the _worst_. No edit function! Sloppy coding.” Holtzmann made a face. “Like the night before I left. Etched in there like sodium hydroxide on aluminum…My science teacher gave me an old microscope from the lab. Best gift I ever got. When they ran across it that night, they threw it at my head. Lucky for me, their aim’s no good.” Holtzmann mimed firing her proton pistols and laughed again. “Unlike mine. Anyway, it just clipped my head, no big deal. But the microscope hit the floor hard. As thoroughly smashed as Erin after two martinis. And that was it.”

Patty had managed not to flinch while Holtzmann related her story. Now she was just working on not demanding to know Holtzmann’s parents’ address and number. Patty had a few things she would like to say to them. She pressed her lips together; she knew that wouldn’t be a helpful contribution, and she didn’t want to make this conversation about _her_ feelings.

She thought of Holtzmann's speech at the pub. The way she always seemed to kind of prefer initiating physical contact herself. Her silence—and sometimes, abrupt departure—whenever certain topics came up. A certain sadness shadowing Holtzmann’s bright eyes.

Patty had thought she was imagining that.

Maybe it was the source of the parts of Holtzmann that scared Patty. For the first time, she wondered if Holtzmann ever scared herself.

“Holtzy.” Patty leaned toward Holtzmann’s line of sight, but didn’t offer the hug that she was dying to. She didn’t want to startle Holtzmann.  Instead, she searched for the right words, hoping they would reach Holtzmann behind her defenses. “They were _wrong_ to treat you that way. Not just wrong. Cruel. Cruel! You hear me? No child deserves that. You should’ve had a family that took care of you, no matter what. And who didn't just put up with all your little quirks, but _loved_ 'em. And loved you. I hope you really, truly understand that.”

Holtzmann swallowed hard, visibly, and met Patty's eyes for the first time since the conversation had begun. Behind her yellow lenses, Holtzmann's eyes were wet. It was only the second time Patty had ever seen that—not counting any of the incidents that had resulted in Holtzmann’s spending quality time with the eyewash station.

“Oh no, baby girl! I didn't mean to—“ Patty knotted her fingers together. She never would’ve thought their cocky little mad scientist would go breaking her heart like this.

“S-sorry. I seem to have sprung a leak.” Holtzmann wiped her nose on the collar of her jacket. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this stuff.”

“You saying even _Abby_ doesn’t know any of this?”

Holtzmann sighed. “Abby’s asked a few times, but she wants details. And then she gets _really_ sad and upset if she starts to understand. It messes with her worldview too much, y’know? It’s not good for her. Plus, then she wants to fix things. And this can’t be fixed. Even if I got around to building a time machine…”

“I get you. Well, anyway, I mean it. You. Deserved. Better. But you came through it, even though you shouldn't have had to. You're here. And you're super-smart, and a good friend. A little scary, OK, but you got a good heart. That's goddamn incredible!" Patty couldn't stop herself; she was brimming over with love, anger, sadness, and a powerful conviction that Holtzmann needed to hear what she was saying. "You didn't let it beat you. Even though I wouldn't have blamed you if it had, baby. I know you, and I know you're only telling me a little tiny bit of the whole thing. You went through hell!"

“Yeah, yeah, I know, in the abstract anyway, but I guess no one’s ever said that to me, so…for some stupid reason it feels different.” Holtzmann squeezed her eyes shut, then took her glasses off and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “Ugh, sorry. You got a tube patch kit on ya?”

Patty was trying hard to keep her own self together. “Is it OK if I give you a hug now, Holtzy?”

“…Yeah.”

Patty enfolded Holtzmann into her arms. Holtzmann was rigid for a moment, and then Patty felt her relax. She mumbled something.

"What's that?" asked Patty.

"I said, you're a really good hugger."

"Heck yeah I am. And, tip for ya, I give hugs on demand."

"Nice." Holtzmann sat back, briefly looking like herself, but then a wave of misery washed over her face. "About the signs..."

“Oh yeah. Well, I'm willing to not put them up—”

Holtzmann started to interrupt. “You shouldn’t do anything you—“

“Hold _on_ , Miss Thing. I was gonna say, I’m willing to not put them up, and instead I’ll make you an offer. You wanna go look for her with me?”

Holtzmann looked like she was experiencing several conflicting emotions. Patty didn’t want her to glitch out, but just as she started to get _really_ worried, Holtzmann said, in a very small voice, “You’d do that?”

“Course I would!” Patty gave Holtzmann her best, most blinding grin, even though it ached. “I got a cousin—one of the smart ones, OK, not Mr. Vienna Sausages—who’s an outreach worker. She knows resources I never even heard of. And one brother-in-law who’s a lawyer, and he _owes_ me for—well, he knows. So if there’s a good reason for this kid to be where she is, we can do something about it. Promise.”

Holtzmann whipped off her gloves, shot off of her stool, and grabbed Patty’s hand. “You got a deal, pardner! Come on, time’s a-wastin’.”

Patty stood up and gave Holtzmann’s hand a light squeeze. “I see how it is. Anything to avoid making those packs lighter, huh?”

“O, my champion, you’ve rescued me from this _lab_ with all these _machines_ and all this _inventing_! Thank you for saving me from such drudgery. I shall be forever in your debt.” Holtzmann gave an exaggerated bow and kissed the back of Patty’s hand.

This time, Patty didn’t even roll her eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a headcanon that Holtzmann has CPTSD (complex post-traumatic stress disorder). I might explore this further later on, but this one is pretty personal, and I basically wrote it for me. (tbh, it's kind of difficult for me to tell if the incidents Holtzmann relates in the story are sufficiently abnormal to realistically merit Patty's reaction. "Normal" winds up being a relative thing...no pun intended.) 
> 
> Anyway, if you read it, despite its major lack of funny or sexy, I appreciate it.
> 
> \- ERRATA -
> 
> Two sites with information about CPTSD: [Complex PTSD](http://traumadissociation.com/complexptsd), [CPTSD symptoms](http://www.outofthestorm.website/symptoms/) (cw: mentions of self-harm, etc.)
> 
> "Error: Too many errors" is an honest-to-goodness [compiler error](http://everything2.com/title/Error%253A+Too+many+errors). Let me tell you, it's super fun to run into when you're a novice programmer.
> 
> [Sugru](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sugru) is a real thing, invented by a woman to reduce the number of things that we throw away.


End file.
